Philadelphia Daily News
Harold Angel : 08/23/1961

The Heath brothers (Jimmy, Percy, Albert), comprising Philadelphia’s first family of jazz, have been reunited under Jimmy’s leadership on The Quota. The sextet also includes Freddie Hubbard, Julius Watkins and Cedar Walton.

The arrangements are by Jimmy, who seems more at ease here than with the tentette form that has occupied much of his writing time recently. The Farmer–Golson Jazztet would profit by commissioning a few charts from the Federal St. flash.

The dry and distinctive Heath tenor gets quite a workout, being heard most appealingly, ballad-style, in When Sunny Gets Blue. Hubbard comes in for some crisp blowing and Watkins does the utterly impossible on the French horn – even his fluffs are monumental.

Summing up: Jimmy Heath’s best three-letter performance to date.

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Down Beat : 10/12/1961
Leonard G. Feather : 3.5 stars

With its full quota of Heaths, and intelligent writing by Jimmy, this is an unflagwavy blowing date. The leader’s tenor lives up to the succinct appraisal by Don De Michael that is quoted without credit in Ed Sherman’s otherwise admirable liner notes.

There is a good, clean ensemble blend throughout, almost as if this were an organized unit, and there is enough scoring to give most tracks more substance than is often found in dates of this type. Milt Jackson‘s tune, Bells & Horns, and Funny Time by Jimmy, which includes a good solo by Percy, are the best items, though the three horns have admirable solos scattered through both sides.

Walton, though still lacking a little in dynamic variety, offers pleasant, if uneventful, single-note lines.

Watkins, still straining occasionally (will anyone ever invent a clinkerproof French horn?), remains the most inventive artist on the instrument and has a consistently culinary workout on Funny Time.

Hubbard demonstrates deftly why he walked away with this year’s critics poll citation, as new-star trumpeter. All in all, a session that didn’t aim too high and managed to hit the target.

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Liner Notes by Ed Sherman

Strangely enough, one of a performer’s toughest battles in the entertainment world can be the necessity of competing with his own relatives. More than a few performers have gone so far as to change their names to avoid the otherwise-inevitable comparisons or accusations of “cashing-in” on a relative’s name-value. Again strangely enough, by way of direct contrast, this is not at all necessarily so in the case of jazz musicians. I’d like to think that this means our music fans are a shade more realistic than our movie fans. But whatever the reason may be, it’s safe to say that the relative-syndrome mean nothing much to the Dodds family, or the Dorseys, and in our own day has had little or no effect on the individual careers of such souls as the Adderley, Jones, Condoli, Farmer, Mitchell, Sims or Montgomery brothers, to name just a few. (Looking at it from the consumer’s standpoint, I can’t for example see either buying or not buying a Nat Adderley record just because he’s Cannonball‘s brother! I can see buying a Nat Adderley record because he’s a good player.)

Turning to the artist immediately at hand, Jimmy Heath has a musician-brother – two of them, as a matter of fact. He’s also an extremely good player. And composer. And arranger. For the last three reasons (and, with all due respect to Percy and Albert, for those reasons only), I can see buying a Jimmy Heath record. Especially The Quota. To come right out with it, if this album gets the exposure it truly deserves, I feel sure we’ll never again hear anyone saying: “Jimmy Heath, man. You know – Percy’s brother.”

Like Jimmy’s first effort as a leader (also for Riverside), this is a sextet date. The most obvious difference between the two albums lies in the instrumentation. In this front line, he adds trumpet and French horn to his own full-sounding tenor, as distinguished from the earlier album’s cornet and trombone. In my opinion, this slightly less orthodox choice was a wise one, and the results most gratifying. Both brass, by virtue of their mechanical capabilities, offer Jimmy a wide range of usefulness as added solo voices as well as in the ensembles: crisp and biting when that is called for, and on other occasions as broad and rich as any harmonic cushion could be.

I’d hesitate to challenge Jimmy’s choice of sidemen for this recording, and so should you. Trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, still in his early twenties, is rapidly becoming one of the leading lights of the instrument in the eyes of both the public and the infamous critics. (He finished third in a very closely-bunched race in the “New Star” category in the 1960 International Jazz Critics Poll.) Under the catch-all heading of “Miscellaneous Instruments” in the same poll (“old-star” or “open-to-all-comers” category), Julius Watkins turned up as a strong first. Certainly the most active French horn soloist in jazz, Julius at last hearing was holding down a chair in the Quincy Jones orchestra, as he has been doing ever since that band was formed. On Lowland Lullaby and Bells and Horns in particular, he demonstrates how his particularly difficult instrument can be masted and definitely applied to jazz. (The latter number, incidentally, was written and first recorded by Milt Jackson: “bells” presumably applies to Bags’ own sound, since there are no bells here – although a lot of other things are going on.)

The ‘operate-like-one-man’ rhythm section – consisting of older brother Percy; younger brother Albert, whom everyone calls by the since-childhood nickname of “Tootie,” but who prefers not to be billed that way; and pianist Cedar Walton – contributes considerably to the proceedings. This is obviously the best thing to do with relatives: enlist their talents and all the empathy of a close-knit family in support of your efforts. (In addition, “Tootie” and Cedar have been a team since both were with J.J. Johnson and are currently working together in the Benny Golson–Art Farmer Jazztet.) On the title tune, listen to Percy’s delicate and powerful solo as he explores the height and the depth of his instrument. Walton’s horn-like solo on When Sunny Gets Blue, short thought it may be, is most effective.

As far as Jimmy Heath himself is concerned, much as I dislike the use of quotes (“If you’re trying to say something, say it yourself!”), I think I’ll use one now, since for my money a Down Beat record reviewer has best-described Jimmy’s playing as “lean, but filled with blood, as good red meat should be. His work is passionate, but not purplish hue. ‘Manly’ would best describe his tenor playing.” Jimmy’s style is “lean,” but it’s a leanness with a sense of urgency to it. You can hear this on When Sunny Gets Blue, a ballad that features Jimmy at his best in a truly moving solo. You can also hear a bit of that “non-purplish” passion on the same track. The “manly” aspect, I would think, shows itself most clearly on Funny Time. That ain’t no chick blowing!

The considerable Heath writing talent is plainly evident in the four original compositions and the six charts contained herein. (One of the seven selections, the standing Thinking of You, is a head arrangement that provides a little blowing space for all, including a series of ‘fours’ for the drums of good, young “Tootie.”) The originals begin with the loping album-title tune, and include the infectious Lowland Lullaby, based on a melody Mrs. Heath used to sing to the boys. And to think my mother retarded me with the dumb changes to Rockabye Baby! There’s also Down Shift, a tasty bit of funk with a title readily understood by any sports car enthusiast or trailer-truck driver. Being one of the former, on hearing the tune I actually did get the feeling of driving a high-powered automobile down a long, dark, curving road, my right foot buried in the floorboards and… oh well, it’s a very good tune. Finally, on Funny Time the instrumentation is shown off to good advantage in the form of interesting blends on both the ensembles and the two-horn backgrounds.

When Jimmy’s album just prior to this one (Really Big) was released, many listeners, including myself, were happy to hear his playing and writing in a different and unique setting – that of a big-band-sounding tentette. On that occasion Jimmy proved quite capable of utilizing those extra horns to the fullest advantage. With the present sextet date, Jimmy once again shows himself to be a versatile and flexible artist. Comparing the two albums (and you can also add his first sextet LP to the comparison) emphasizes the extent of this flexibility. It’s not just a matter of having more or less horns to work with, but – much more importantly – of being able to shape the whole nature of his work to the needs of the specific task at hand, while retaining nonetheless a recognizable personal “feel” in all cases. This ability to create appropriate music is about as fresh and unusual as it is valuable. So, in the enclosed album, Jimmy has given us another bit of freshness: in tunes… arrangements… and sound. My dictionary defines “quota” as “a proportional share.” As far as I’m concerned, Jimmy Heath has given us far more than The Quota.